A Cloud Of Mystery
by Dead Passive
Summary: What starts off as a little fun in the interview room quickly changes pace... Jim/Alex and Jim/Gene ahead. Yes, I am one of select few who likes Jim :D


This is set early into Series 3, probably before Episode 2 if I had to pin it down. This started life as a Jim/Alex fic, but it quickly took a much more sinister form! So here's your warnings; adult content, slash and swearing, so please don't read it if you don't like it or are offended easily. As already mentioned, I like nervous and/or passive Jim, I hope you like it... Please R&R, DP.  
**I own nothing,** sadly. Kudos and the BBC own those rights, I merely take their characters and make them dance to my rhythm.

* * *

As she woke up, the room felt unfamiliar. It was so unfamiliar, it _was _oddly familiar. She felt a hand resting across her stomach, one she knew shouldn't have been there, but it was strangely comforting to feel his skin against hers. She watched his chest rise and fall for a moment before gazing at her surroundings. It was an interview room; that was a new one on her. When they had entered the room the night before, she hadn't even looked at the shabby, smoke stained walls, nor had the overwhelming stench of whiskey registered with her either. She had had more pressing things to deal with and that hadn't included taking in the decor of Fenchurch East. She was pretty sure they had ended up _on _the desk at some point, which was now askew in the corner of the room. Nothing seemed to make sense, yet everything made sense to her. Her mystery man stirred next to her and rubbed his eyes lightly. They must have been in a hurry; she hadn't even bothered to remove his shirt properly. As her fingers danced gingerly over his soft skin, she felt him move closer to her. His fingers slipped under her open shirt and pushed it down to her elbows as his lips clashed against hers. Their tongues duelled and though she should have hated the way he tasted, she adored it; she couldn't get enough of him. Her mouth trailed down his jaw and along his neck while his fingers traced circles around her bra.

So wrapped up in each other, they didn't hear two pairs of shoes on the hard linoleum floor approaching the interview room. It was only when the door swung open, two shadows were cast over them. Upon separating, they found themselves staring at Gene Hunt; one hand clasped on the shoulder of the detainee. The prisoner burst out laughing as Gene shoved him back out into the corridor. "I want both of you in my office, now." His voice was low and his eyes were dark as he thrust the prisoner towards Viv. "Get laughing boy out of my sight." Viv nodded as he escorted him back to his cell, while Gene turned his attention back to the two half naked figures in the room. Silently, he strode towards them, pulled them to their feet and marched them to his office. He just had time to seize his jacket and tie while she grabbed her blazer before they exited the room.

She'd had her fair share of the 'walk of shame', but this one trumped the rest. She couldn't think of anything more embarrassing than being ushered through CID whilst in a state of undress, with her partner in crime in tow. Her cheeks flushed as the double doors of CID swung open and Gene led them to his office. "Bloody 'ell!" Though she tried not to focus on any particular voice, Ray's echoed around the room, loudest of all.

In amongst the smutty comments the males of CID were making about her appearance, she heard Shaz in the background "What's going on Ma'am?" Anything else she said was cut off suddenly as Gene slammed the door and pulled the blinds down. This effort to stop his voice from carrying was somewhat in vain.  
"What the bloody hell has gotten in to you, Bolls? I do not expect to find my DI slobbering over somebody in the interview room! Let alone this twat!"  
"Don't talk about Jim like that, you weren't there..."  
"Too bloody right I wasn't! I wouldn't want to be anywhere near the pencil necked bastard Bolls. Let alone spend the night shagging him!" Alex's blood ran cold as she knew everyone in CID had just heard his last comment.  
"How would you know what happened if you weren't there?" Jim said coyly, and regretted speaking instantly. Gene stepped forward into Jim's personal space, licking his lips as he contemplated what to say next. Turning to face Alex he hissed "I expected more from you Bolls. I didn't think you'd drop your kecks for any old Tom, Dick or Harry, but this is a new low even for you. And as for you" He turned back to face Jim "You waltzed in here, acting like some hotshot, and within days of your arrival, you've shagged my DI..." Gene stroked his chin for a moment, contemplating his next move. "Get dressed, both of you." Seizing the whiskey bottle on the desk, he unscrewed the cap and poured a generous helping into a glass while the pair dressed silently. Despite the bollocking she knew Gene was going to give her, she couldn't find it in herself to care. What had happened between her and Jim meant more to her than she cared to admit.  
"If you so much as think about her again, I'll have your knackers in a vice before you can even say 'Gene Genie' got it?" Jim held his steely gaze but said nothing, taking his leave from the room instead. "Oi! You bastard Keats, I haven't finished with you yet!" Alex watched him leave CID amidst the wolf whistles. Then Gene turned his attention back to Alex. "You have a knack of pissing me off, you know Bolls? If you'd shagged any other bloke, or bird for that matter, I wouldn't have given a flying fig. Instead, you pick the only bastard in all of Fenchurch that I can't abide. That's some good going Bolls..."  
"You make it sound like I deliberately shagged him just to get at you Gene. But as we both know, when his hands came into contact with my skin and his lips touched mine, again and again, your name didn't crop up once." She watched him bite his lip, a look of anger flashing across his face briefly before he replied "I always thought you were a classy bird, Drake. It looks like I've misjudged you..." He stepped closer to her and lowered his voice before he added "I just hope you haven't caught anything from the slimy bastard. Not even a high priest could cleanse you Bolls if you had." Alex couldn't stop herself, and before she knew it her palm slammed against his cheek, leaving an angry red mark in its wake.  
"Don't you dare talk about Jim like that again, else it won't just be a slap next time." Taking her leave, the chorus of whistles increased. Ignoring everyone, she went to Jim's office. Tapping gently on the door, she only then noticed how much she was shaking. She didn't make a habit of standing up to Gene, but when she did it didn't usually unnerve her this much. When she got no answer from Jim, she knocked again, louder this time. After a good two minutes Alex pushed the door open and was shocked at what she found.

Jim's furnace of an office had been trashed; he was usually so meticulous, there was a place for everything and everything has a place, but instead books were strewn across the floor, loose pages littered the desk, broken tapes had come to rest around the room and the filing cabinet now displayed a large fist shaped dint. At first, she didn't see Jim, curled up in the corner of the room. It was his pained mewl that drew her attention; tears streaked his face, blood trickled down his knuckles and utter sorrow etched itself deep in his dark eyes. Alex rushed towards him, dropping to her knees as she drew level with him. "Talk to me Jim." The passion she had seen in his eyes the night before had long since disappeared she noted sadly as he met her gaze. Seizing a hand, she tried to establish where the brunt of the damage was; his knuckles were torn but not bleeding badly enough for the amount of blood that was present. Carefully checking his left hand and wrist, it was when she turned his right palm skywards did she see the jagged cut responsible. "What happened..?" Words failed him, so he pointed to the filing cabinet on the other side of the room. He had always said it had sharper edges than a normal set of drawers, but Gene hadn't believed him. Alex took one look at the deep incision and she believed him.  
"I need to get something to clean this up, I'll be a minute, ok?"

But for Jim, that minute never came. From his office, Gene watched Alex scuttle off in search of her latest conquest. He had never penned her as the type that had it away with senior officers in interview rooms, but she had proved him wrong. Gene saw her wait for a little while before entering, and less than 2 minutes later she bolted out again. Rising from his chair he called Ray over "I want you to take Drakey out and chase up some leads, see what scum you can round up. Shaz and Chris are already out there..."  
"But Guv..."  
"Raymondo, I want a little bit of Drake-free time, if she refuses you drag her out by the scruff of her neck, got it?" Ray nodded and left the room, catching up with Alex just outside the double doors to CID. Gene smiled to himself as they walked away, the first aid kit tumbling to the ground as Alex left. He scooped it up as he headed to Jim's office, just in case he needed it. He had intended to apologise, in his own unique Gene Hunt style. But when he stepped into the room, chaos awaited him. Upon hearing the door swing open, Jim sobbed "Alex?" pitifully without looking up.  
"Not quite, I prefer Gene." Jim's blood chilled when he heard his voice, expecting a beating this time he recoiled further against the wall. "Don't be daft, I'm not goin' to hit yer." Gene said softly as he set the first aid kit down on the floor and knelt in front of Jim. "I'm sorry about before, I think I overreacted a little... Just don't like seeing anyone else with Drakey." Jim said nothing, but he held Gene's steely blue gaze. He seemed like a completely different creature at this level, Jim thought. Gone was the anger, the venom and the air of self-importance. Instead, a softer, gentler Gene knelt before him. A point he proved as he ran the heel of his hand across Jim's cheek, drying some of the fresh tears. "Don't cry, I'm not worth it." Jim felt a slight chuckle escape his lips, which turned to a gasp as

Gene's fingers strayed eastwards to tease his hair gingerly. It shouldn't have calmed him, but as Gene's fingers danced through his hair and down his neck, Jim felt the tears dry up and his shaking stopped. All the while, Gene muttered softly to him, quite what he said didn't register with him, but it had the desired effect. Moments passed, but it felt like a lifetime to Jim. Once he had regained his composure, he returned his dark eyes to Gene's soft blue gaze. "That's better." He flashed him a quick smile, something that in all the years Jim had known Gene, he had never done. The second his fingers lost contact with Jim's hair, he felt surprisingly lost, and he didn't like it. Looking longingly, almost pleadingly at Gene paid off as his slender fingers brushed his cheek lightly before clasping it gingerly. The next thing to register with Jim was Gene's moist lips meeting his. He had thought, if they ended up in this situation, he would have been able to resist and pull back, but all he could do was pull Gene closer and push the kiss on. The older man pulled back slightly and placed light kisses along his jaw. Jim used the moment to think about what he could smell; musky aftershave, presumably Brut, stale Scotch mixed with testosterone, not things he was used to smelling on someone so close to him. The worrying part was that he liked the combination; he couldn't get enough as he pulled Gene closer still. Jim's latest action had unbalanced Gene from his kneeling position, so know he was pressed flush against Jim.

Hot breath on his neck numbed his thought process, before teeth grazed his neck. Gene applied the right amount of pressure with both his teeth and lips as Jim pushed his jacket to the ground. Jim's nimble fingers danced across his shirt before carefully removing his tie and starting to undo the buttons. All the while, Gene had let his mouth explore the soft flesh of his neck. Somewhat less gracefully than Jim, Gene forced his jacket from him and loosened his tie in order to undo the top few buttons. Once they were undone, he yanked the material aside and ran his tongue along the sensitive collarbone of Jim Keats. Through half lidded eyes he groaned softly and felt his hips buck against Gene but neither of them cared. Whilst his mouth was otherwise occupied, Gene roughly popped the rest of the buttons and shoved the shirt down to his elbows. Instinctively, a hand snaked down his chest and came to rest on a small welt on his right side, inches above his hip bone. Soft fingers rubbed it tenderly before his lips departed and arrived at his scar. Before he knew it, Gene had his lips pressed to the mark, massaging it with his tongue. Jim tingled from head to toe, there was something completely intoxicating about his touch, but he couldn't pin down just what it was. It didn't matter to him as at that moment Gene removed his belt and lowered the zip on his trousers. Gene reached into his boxers and freed his arousal, waiting only a second before he dipped his head. Warm, moist lips coming into contact with his arousal had been a surprise, one that saw Jim let a throaty groan of appreciation. Gene's expertly placed lips and tongue worked wonders on him, as he shuddered underneath Gene's touch it became obvious he was so close to release.

Gene carried on, pushing Jim closer and closer to the edge before it became too much for him. Gripping his shoulders tightly, Jim welcomed the relief and felt his composure return. Gene knelt in front of him once again, smiling from ear to ear as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve. Unsure how it would go down with Gene, Jim reached forward and tugged his zip down. As his throbbing palm brushed Gene's throbbing arousal he fought back the urge to whimper, instead he settled on a pained growl. Once Gene was free, Jim ran a hand along his length, his thumb circling his head. If he was honest, he didn't really know what he was doing. He couldn't profess to have done this before, whereas it seemed Gene had. Instead, he had to rely on little things that had given him pleasure in his darkest, loneliest days. The rest was guess work, depending on the expression on Gene's face. The current expression; mouth wide in an O shape and eyelids firmly closed seemed to imply that he was enjoying himself. Jim increased the pace slightly, feeling Gene spasm and his hips buck more and more ferociously with each stroke, he could tell that Gene was drawing close. Though the capability to think had long since left Jim, he knew he was faced with a decision, one that had to be made quickly; did he lower his mouth to Gene's aching arousal and repay the favour, though he had little knowledge of this subject, or did he carry on stroking him and hope for the best? He put himself in Gene's shoes for a split second and decided that if it was mind-blowing being on the receiving end, it had to be just as good to give it. Sheepishly, Jim lowered his lips, firstly tasting the head before he finally took Gene's length into his moist, but oh-so-ready mouth. It proved too much for Gene, he couldn't stop his hips from bucking repeatedly, forcing him deeper and deeper into Jim's mouth. His fingers tightened around Jim's dark locks, groan after throaty groan escaping from his lips. It didn't take Jim long to push Gene to his climax, as he split his seed in his mouth, Jim didn't think twice about swallowing it. Though it had all been a new sensation for him, the expression that had remained on Gene's face told him he had done a good job.

Thoroughly spent, both men collapsed against the wall. Their bodies or what little skin that had been exposed shimmered with a sweat, which wasn't helped by heat in the room. It was then Gene noticed the angry wound on his palm. Gene picked up his tie and wrapped it tightly around his hand. "Keep it as a memento."  
"I still have the last 'souvenir' you gave me..." Gene caught Jim's gaze, losing himself in the dark, fiery orbs for a moment he couldn't help the soft smile that spread itself across his lips. Gene had looked into those mysterious, sparkling eyes a thousand times before, and each time he'd seen something different. He hadn't always liked what he saw, but this time, as he ran his fingers over the welt on Jim's stomach, gratitude had replaced any ill feelings he once had towards Gene and there was a definite touch of lust mixed with the slightest hint of regret, possibly shame, but the pleasure outweighed the pain. Taking a deep breath, Gene motioned to the scar "I'm sorry about that you know?"  
"You weren't at the time."  
"Shouldn't have walked into my shooter then James..." Jim couldn't stifle the chuckle that rumbled around his chest, and as the innuendo registered with Gene, he too had to smile. For all their faults and their bravado, Jim was still the cloud of mystery and Gene was still the filthy minded swine from the first moment they met, but they both had to admit they made a damn good team.


End file.
